


three by five

by CoraClavia



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e03 Fair Game, F/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16332869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: Black ink on index cards: the speech Jack never got to give.





	three by five

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [CookOutNBakeOff](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CookOutNBakeOff) collection. 



> The cupcakes ended up being more peripheral than I had intended, but, well.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Celebratory cupcakes (up to author what the celebration is).

The colonel announces that team night is mandatory.

Well. “Mandatory.”

They’re all worn out from the sudden shock of hosting a fate-of-the-world conference on next to no notice, then dealing with an invisible assassin, the politics of system lords, and the whole mess that’s brought up. But it’s over, everyone’s fine, and Colonel O’Neill announces that he’s picking up chicken on his way home, and the charcoal will be on at six.

Sam’s half-tempted to beg out; he wouldn’t press the issue, she knows. But the thought of food and collapsing onto a comfy couch with the guys isn’t so bad, and she’s fairly sure her fridge is just about bare. So if she wants dinner, this is her best bet.

* * *

Sam’s surprised to find that she’s the last to arrive. Daniel’s usually running late, and Teal’C always hitches a ride with him. But she walks in to find all three guys in the living room, with a handmade sign that says CONGRATULATIONS, MAJOR CARTER!

She lets out a huff, something like a laugh. She’d almost forgotten she was promoted.

Daniel hands over a box, which she opens to find half a dozen cupcakes from an adorable little bakery in town. Each is adorned with a swirl of white icing, and topped with what looks like a sparkly gold oak leaf, identical to the brand-new insignia on her uniform.

“Well, we never did get to celebrate your promotion,” he explains. “So we decided we needed to.”

She beams at him. “Thanks, Daniel.”

The colonel raises an eyebrow. “I hope you’re ready to share those, Carter.”

“I’ll think about it, sir.”

That gets a grin from him, and despite the exhaustion that’s drained her since the moment the colonel vanished in the Gate room, she feels some of the tension in her shoulders dissolve.

* * *

Teal’C and Colonel O’Neill take over the grill - Teal’C has come to appreciate the precision necessary to grill meat perfectly, and he tends to make sure the food is cooked well while the colonel drinks beer and “supervises” - and Daniel and Sam end up in the kitchen.

Salad is put together, buns are toasted, and the table needs setting; Daniel pulls out silverware as the colonel reappears from the back porch, tongs in one hand.

Daniel takes plates and cutlery into the dining room, and doesn’t see as the colonel stops in front of Sam, who drops the napkins she was holding. “Uh - sir? You need something?”

He pauses for a moment, like he’s not sure what he’s doing, then presses something into her hands, so quick she doesn’t understand what’s happened until he’s pulling back. His eyes are fixed on hers, a gaze so quiet, so intense, she can’t look away.

“Congratulations, Carter.”

It’s soft enough that Daniel doesn’t hear it, and the colonel heads back outside, leaving Sam standing alone in the kitchen, staring down at a folded set of notecards, covered with his cramped, angular handwriting.

There’s really nothing else it could be, is there?

She turns them over in her hands. This is longer than she’d expected. He’s an off-the-cuff speaker; she’s seen him jot down notes for things, and they’re brief and concise. But this? This is careful. Thoughtful.

He took his time with this.

For a moment, she wonders if it’s the right time to read this speech. But how secret can it be, if he intended to give it in front of the entire SGC?

The guys are still outside, so she flips to the front of the cards and starts reading.

 _Normally, I am a man of very few words._ That makes her smile. He is.

_But sometimes, the occasion calls for more. And I can think of no better occasion than this to say more._

_Major Carter is one of the finest officers I’ve ever had the privilege of serving with. She is brilliant, capable, resourceful, and selfless. I owe her my life, and I’m not the only one in this room who does. Even in the darkest of times, she has shown courage and devotion far above and beyond the call of duty. I trust her without hesitation._

_Every day, I’m grateful for her intelligence, her loyalty, and her ability to do scientific things I can’t even pronounce, let alone understand. Major Carter is an inspiration. I can’t imagine the SGC, or SG-1, without her._

It looks like an ending, but it wasn’t the first one; beneath this, the last words are crossed out, like he’d decided to cut them just moments before walking into the Gate room.

_It’s a honor serving with you, Major. No regrets._

The words take her right back to that memory she’s half-wished she could forget, the two of them huddled together in a dark, icy cave, waiting to freeze to death in each other’s arms.

 _No regrets_.

The tears spill out silently, and she covers her mouth with one hand, trying vainly to stop it, because this is neither the time nor the -

“Sam? What’s wrong?”

She looks up to find Daniel watching her, concern in his eyes. He gives him a watery smile.

“Nothing. It’s - nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

Sam is accustomed to deflecting things; she’s an adult, after all, and she can deal with stress on her own. But Daniel is like an extra brother. He’s sweet and sincere and not military, and God knows he’s been beside her every step of the way.

“It’s just kind of everything, you know?” She lets out a shaky breath. Too much to pin down.

He wraps an arm around her shoulders. “It’s been a hell of a year.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good thing you’re a genius. If you were dumb, we’d be goners.”

That makes her laugh, relaxing the tightness that’s been crowding her throat since she read the colonel’s words.

That’s what she loves about SG-1, she thinks. There’s always someone who can say the right thing.

“Carter?”

She looks up to find the colonel standing in the doorway, watching her and Daniel. Her instinct is to freeze, turn away, wipe her eyes, but there’s no point. He can obviously see she was crying, and there’s no way he doesn’t know why.

“I’m fine, sir.”

His gaze drops to her hand, where she’s still holding his notecards, but he just nods.

“All right.”

* * *

Daniel passes cupcakes around to everyone after dinner, while they’re all sprawled on couches and chairs in the living room. Teal’C accepts his with a nod; Sam tucks her feet under herself, licking frosting off her finger. It’s the good kind, the rich vanilla she loves.

“So.” Daniel settles back in his chair, peeling the little gold oak leaf (which is actually just sparkly cardboard) off his cupcake. “You want to make a toast, Jack? Since your speech got cut off.”

The colonel pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking to meet hers, and Sam can’t explain the sense of secrecy that fills her. He could mention the speech. Ask her to hand over the notecards. Make a big show of it.

But somehow, she knows what this look means. It’s between the two of them. It’s just for them.

“If you insist.” He shrugs, and it’s casual, but she knows better. It’s too casual. He looks around, raising the little pastry in one hand, tipping it towards her.

“To a damn fine officer.”

_A “man of very few words,” Colonel?_

She just smiles.

* * *

Sam doesn’t realize she’s alone with Colonel O’Neill until Daniel’s pulling out of the driveway, Teal’C in the passenger’s seat.

There’s something intangible, something she knows to skirt around. It’s the reason she avoids being alone with the colonel at his house. The reason she doesn’t usually meet his eyes for too long.

So she’s standing in the doorway, keys in her hand, trying to decide. It’s dark outside, and the lights in his hallway are warm, golden. Comfortable.

Dangerous.

“Heading out?”

His voice is even as he watches her, hands in his pockets.

She could let it go, she knows. He’d never bring it up again, and they’d both just _know_. She could keep these handwritten notecards hidden away and never say a word.

But after what they’ve been through together?

“Sir -” She’s not even sure what to say, but she has to say something. “That speech -”

“I meant every word.”

Her eyes well up fresh at that. Because she knew, on some level, that he trusts her, that he respects her abilities. But seeing it written out so clearly - _I trust her without hesitation_ \- is humbling. He keeps an easygoing exterior, but he has an intensity about him, a powerful, blazing presence. After Antarctica, after Jolinar, after Seth, after everything, Jack O’Neill still believes in her.

 _Major Carter is an inspiration_.

His face softens, and he takes a step towards her.  

“Come here.”

He reaches out, she moves back towards him. He wraps his arms around her, and it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Her head fits perfectly on his shoulder, like they were made for this. She can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and he’s warm, solid, his physical presence as sure and steady as he is.

He hugs her tightly like she’s precious, and there’s a flood of warmth spreading through her, her skin alight and aware so suddenly that she catches her breath.

This - _this_ feels different.

His hand brushes against her cheek, surprisingly soft, and in a sudden, blinding moment of clarity, she knows: _this_ is the danger.

So she reluctantly pulls herself out of his arms, taking in a long breath, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at her. “Good night, sir.”

He nods slowly, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to regain equilibrium. For a moment he looks almost wry, like he knows why she’s stepped back.

“Get some rest, Major. See you tomorrow.”

She walks out alone, keys in hand, only glancing back as she opens her car door. He’s standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the lights of his home.

Whatever it is, this - _thing_ \- between them, well.

She’ll deal with it later.


End file.
